The ice beasts came out of nowhere.
Muscular, humanoid, blue, and entirely frozen, they swarmed the streets with a single purpose: to wipe us out.
The first humans fell before we knew what was happening. A beast would touch you and your body instantly froze with a harrowing crackle. People were flash frozen and shattered before our eyes. A billion went down in the first week alone.
At first, we tried shooting them. The ice beasts didn’t seem to care about the holes and lost limbs. Grenades did little better. The army used flame throwers. If you could melt the whole creature down, it didn’t come back. Once folks heard that, there were a lot of boiling pots of water, welding torches, and flaming aerosol cans. It worked for a while, but the beasts were fast. So many people died trying to keep the monsters at bay. All the Molotov cocktails in the world can’t stop an avalanche.
Not everyone fought. After seeing our friends get mobbed and iced, most of us ran for the equator. They still came for us, but they were slower here. The sun was on our side.
While we hid, we discovered the key to our survival. A man in a thick coat was more often grabbed by his exposed head than his more easily reached torso. A child hiding in a dumpster was easily overlooked. They saw only our heat.
Finally, we had our advantage.
We organized. We hid our body heat. We stalked the invaders as they hunted us. One especially warm individual was picked to be bait and led two or three of the beasts into our trap. Once they had reached a narrow alley, the bait man jumped away and the fires were lit. Their screeches were like icicles stabbing our ears. When the fires died out, there was nothing left but a collection of blue puddles.
Word spread of our success. More and more, humanity fought and won. One day, the ice beasts disappeared as suddenly as they had come.
For days and years, we continued to light the fires. A testament to our victory and a warning to any who would do us harm.